


Night Exercises

by respoftw



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/respoftw/pseuds/respoftw
Summary: Rodney and John both love Atlantis at night.  For different reasons.





	Night Exercises

Atlantis never slept. Not really. Her nightlife might not be as exciting as New York's or even Colorado Spring's but the fact remained that Atlantis was a 24/7 - or 26/insert-random-number-here, as the case may be, - city.

Security teams guarded the control room, military patrols roamed the hall and the mess hall was staffed by a skeleton crew who kept the unlucky grunts that drew night shift, and the workaholic scientists who actually _chose_ to work into the small hours, fed and, more importantly, caffeinated.

Rodney knew Atlantis by moonlight just as well as he knew her by daylight. He knew when the mess hall night staff were most likely to have just started a fresh pot of coffee; he knew at exactly what time the freshly baked bread would leave the ovens at stupid o'clock in the morning, lying out on the counter for the taking if anyone happened to find themselves walking by looking for a warm, delicious snack after another all-nighter.

More than that, and more relevant to his current needs, he knew when the communal gym equipment would be free of muscle-headed grunts and well-meaning but off-putting teammates whose attempts to increase his fitness levels made him feel pathetic and useless. More so than usual.

Rodney hadn't really dressed appropriately for the gym, still wearing his blue science shirt and his BDUs. He hadn't wanted to risk running into anyone on his way here and having to explain where he was headed. The sight of a uniformed scientist, especially when that scientist was him, roaming the halls at this time of night was expected but a scientist dressed in work out clothes....it couldn't be risked.

Rodney wandered around the gym for a few moments, trailing his fingers across the pristine equipment, testing the padded benches of something that looked like an instrument of torture from the Spanish Inquisition, even going so far as to attempt a leg crunch with a couple of bars of weight.

Rodney winced as the weights clattered together when he released his leg too quickly, the noise so much louder in the quiet of the night. Resolving to leave the more complicated equipment for another time - the manuals for using them must be on the server somewhere, right? - Rodney made his way over to the bench press.

This, he was fairly confident, he could do. Rodney had always been broad shouldered, skinny with it when he was younger but as he grew older and began to fill out...more than one past boyfriend had told him that his upper body strength was one of his best features. That, and his ass. Mustn't forget that. It was all any of them had wanted him for. Being wanted for his brain was less objectifying but it still rankled. Hell, it was part of the reason he was here wasn't it? The need to prove that he was more than just an answer man, that he could hold his own, watch his own six, keep up with them, that he wouldn't be a liability in the field, that ~~John~~ , the team, could count on him.

Rodney tested the weight of the barbell from his position standing behind the bench. He grunted slightly at the effort but after a couple of tries decided that the weight was easily doable. Mind made up, he walked around the bench and positioned himself on his back.  He'd seen enough guys - and girls, he mentally corrected, not wanting to forget Teyla or Cadman, lest they kick his ass - work with the bench press to be confident that he was positioned correctly. Rodney reached above him and gripped the length of the barbell securely and, breathing out through his mouth, he extended his arm slowly until the weight was lifted off its perch.

Huh, he thought, this is easy.

Rodney slowly brought the weight back down, feeling his arms and chest burn slightly. Careful not to bring the bar down too far, he started to slowly extend his arms again.

Slightly panicked, Rodney realised that extending from much lower was much harder than lifting off from the starting position. The muscles in his arms quickly went from burning to shaking wildly and as he felt something tear in his chest, Rodney had one split second of clarity, one single second of realisation that he was an idiot and that he was royally screwed, before his arms collapsed and the suddenly terrifying weight of a metal bar first crashed into his chest and then lodged itself at the base of his neck, taking away his ability to breathe.

As black spots danced in front of his eyes, the ache in his chest throbbing but unimportant next to the need to breathe, Rodney could only hope that John would miss his morning workout just this once. If he had to die like this, at least let it not be John who had to find his body the next day.

Rodney felt his wildly kicking legs start to slow, felt his thinking start to slow until all there was left was _John_.

\---

John loved Atlantis at night, he loved walking her corridors without people bustling past, giving him time to indulge in the need to touch her walls without getting funny looks. He was pretty sure his soldiers thought he was mad when, every so often, struck by the need, he wandered into the break room and relieved whoever was on break of their night patrol duty. They didn't question it, half the time they ran out the room and back to their quarters before John could change his mind, but he knew they thought he was crazy all the same.

Tonight was one of those nights, and what a gorgeous night it was. Lantea's moon illuminated the corridors well enough that John didn't need to bother thinking the lights on, the light interacting with the stained glass in a way that was very different to sunlight but no less beautiful.

John was humming a bit of old school Cash to himself when he heard the faint clatter of..something. Pulling his P-90 into his hands from where it had previously dangled from his vest, John set off in the direction of the noise, heading down a flight of stairs and a few corridors over to the...the gym. Relaxing slightly but still frowning, John idly wondered which one of his grunts was working out so late. Working out while tired was a damn good way to injure yourself. Stepping into the room, ready (and a little gleeful) to read the riot act to whoever he found there, John felt all the blood rush from his head, leaving him dizzy at the sight before him.

His brain still hadn't quite processed what he was seeing (flashing thoughts of _shit - fuck - Rodney - oh God - please - don't be - idiot - I'm gonna kill - Carson - need Carson - god I hope he needs Carson_ ) but his body didn't care, already moving, reaching out, lifting the heavy (too damn heavy) weight from where it was pressed against - _oh God_ \- Rodney's neck.

Rodney's breath whistled painfully as he tried to gulp down air, curling in on himself as John freed him. John was surprised he could hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears but the pained gasp that each movement caused Rodney to make was the clearest and most horrible sound that John had ever heard.

Not wanting to move him and too scared to move him, John hovered at Rodney's head, one hand activating the radio in his ear and the other finding its way into the sweaty strands of Rodney's hair, petting, reassuring, touching.  John called for a medical team, too shaken to even shout at them to get their asses here NOW.

Call made, John collapsed onto the floor, his hand still cradling the back of Rodney's head where it was curled into Rodney's own arm, and let out a sobbing breath, beyond thankful that wandering Atlantis had seemed a better idea than sleep tonight.

\---

"A torn pectoral muscle, a hairline fracture of the sternum and a fractured larynx." Carson sounded worn out as he listed Rodney's injuries. "From what I can tell, it looks like the idio-- that _Rodney_ overextended himself in his exercise, causing the muscle to tear." He shook his head sadly. "The pain from that likely surprised him and caused him to lose grip of the - - that's where the other injuries come from."

John nodded impatiently, still not hearing the words he'd been waiting to hear since he'd walked into that awful sight. "He's gonna be ok though, right?" He had to be. John couldn't contemplate an Atlantis where Rodney wasn't ok.

Carson sighed, nodding cautiously. "Aye, Colonel. I'll no lie, he's got a long recovery ahead of him. Two to three months of rest and restricted activity for the chest injuries and no talking and a feeding tube for a few weeks for the throat injury."

John breathed out in a mixture of relief and shock. He knew it could have been so much worse - didn't want to think about how nearly it was - but part of him had just expected Rodney to walk this off. For it to be something that they laughed about a week from now.

"Can I see him?"

Carson stepped aside, nodding. "Just for a little bit. He needs rest, Colonel. And remember, no talking."

John agreed readily, already making his way towards the private room Rodney was sequestered in before Carson had even finished speaking.

Rodney looked...beyond awful. His throat was bruised and swollen, his chest swaddled in white bandages with a feeding tube disappearing into his side and another tube snaking out from somewhere uncomfortable.

He was the best thing John had ever seen.

Rodney was conscious, remarkably, and wiggled his fingers pathetically in greeting as he saw John. John couldn't help the raw bark of something that was more sob than laughter that left his throat at the action. He half fell, half walked his way towards Rodney's side and let his hand take up its place in Rodney's hair again. Having let himself touch Rodney this way once already, he wasn't sure he ever wanted to stop.

"Don't you ever do something that stupid again, you hear me?"

Rodney clicked his fingers at John, gesturing for the pencil and paper at the side of the bed and John marvelled that he'd ever thought Rodney wouldn't be able to communicate without speaking.

John watched as Rodney scribbled words messily on the page, his handwriting worse than usual. He caught the words 'trying' and 'better' and 'disappointment' before deciding enough was enough.

Tearing the page out from beneath Rodney's pencil, he crumpled it into a ball and threw it across the room.

"You could never disappoint me," he said, looking directly into Rodney's wide blue eyes, the whites of which were shot through with red after almost suffocating. They were beautiful eyes. To think that John might never have - - he shook his head, gripping Rodney's hand tightly. "There is no _better_ that you need to be. You're, you're.."

 _In_ _love_ _with_ _you,_ Rodney scrawled out on the next piece of paper in the pad.

John tore that one out too but didn't crumple it into a ball, folding it neatly and placing it in the wallet he habitually carried with him instead.

"Love you too, idiot," he smiled. "Now, you just have to wait three months before we can do anything about it. Nice timing, McKay."

Rodney threw his pencil at John but he had a smile on his face so John counted it as a win.

It was so typical of Atlantis that his worst night in her city was also his best.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Have some completely self indulgent hurt comfort. Also, know that I watched too many horrific YouTube videos of bench press accidents before writing this ::winces eternally::


End file.
